A survivor's guide to teenage parenting involving rabbit feet, four leaf clovers and going to Church on Sunday.

Sunday, 27 June 2010

Fashion

A faded black to grey T-shirt advertising a band is a reminder of my age, a reminder of the good times left behind.

By a quirk of fate called immortality by suicide, for he - a rock star - does not grow old as we grow old. Today's sacrifice of the young generation is played out by another poet spokesman of his generation, who has given up on things to say in favour of a way out, to touch the sky and to die before he grows old. So today I am wearing a faded slightly holed T shirt of a band still revered as left of centre, even by todays's teens. We, father and son, are connected whether he likes it or not.

It may hurt for him ~my son ~ to say it, but the Old Man is still cutting it. Sadly no it will not hurt because he will not say it, I am mutton dressed as lamb.

To this next generation I am condemned never to wear my T-shirts, be that band revered or not. It is like a T-shirt that has passed its Expiry date, because of the wrinkly torso that fills it out, a T-shirt that would be magically transformed to cool by a lanky, elasticated skin sometimes prone to zit, firm torso that fails to fill it out. An Expiry date set by children embarrasssed at an old person trying to look young.

Water may turn to wine, mutton becomes lamb. A miracle has occurred that requires no burning bush, no parting of seas, a T-shirt is revalidated as cool going on super-cool by age of the wearer. This T-shirt is claimed as his uniform alone.

The T-shirt branded with a cool icon, worn and ragged, is wanted for a young person trying to look real. A teenager keen to be at the forefront of retro. A wanting to look street. To be fashion wise, without signs of DHL delivery by Amazon branded brand new.

My T-shirts are stolen, camouflaged under the tip that once was a wardrobe. To dare to suggest I may look to find my T-shirts is damned as an outrage. It is an invasion of privacy! by damn! Secrecy is demanded to undertake a "search and rescue" mission and damn the invasion of privacy and if it is another example of my lack of trust. Too right it is.

Nirvana must be rescued from his back before the zit busts and its only a matter of time......